Concrete Angel, Daddy's Hands
by PhantomessAbigail
Summary: Erik meets a young girl, the young girl knows his son, and bad thing happen. It's not as good as hoped. Please read.


A/n: Hello. A small warning: This didn't turn out as well as I had thought it would.  
  
I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. This particular one belongs to Susan Kay.  
  
I do not own Concrete Angel, it's sung by Martina McBride (I believe that's how it's spelled, isn't it?)  
  
I do not own Daddy's Hands (it's also been called Your Daddy's Son), which is from Ragtime. I don't know who owns it, only that I don't. I'm not certain if the lyrics are correct.  
  
Flashback = ~Flashback~  
  
Concrete Angel lyrics= ))Concrete Angel((  
  
Daddy's Hands lyrics= Daddy's Hands  
  
Enjoy. I think that's the word to use, anyway.  
  
~~~~ Concrete Angel, Daddy's Hands  
  
A little girl carried her lunch in one hand, a black-and-white cat in the other, and shivered in the winter chill. She was going to school for the first time. Perhaps she might finally be able to read and, maybe, even write!  
  
Perhaps even make some friends.........  
  
Emma Louise Bellamy looked at the children around her. They all had warm clothes, and most of them had nice ones, too. Emma looked at her own, though lacy, ugly not-so-white-anymore, not-so-perfect dress.  
  
Then again, maybe she wouldn't. She tried not to cry. She'd always been a strong little girl.  
  
She looked at all the children around her, talking to each other, smiling and laughing. Emma tried to smile, too. But somehow it didn't feel right on her face. She rubbed her arm. It was still so sore!  
  
There it was! That was her school! She hoped she'd remember where it was, and how to get home, too!  
  
"Okay, Cat, you have to go now. Sit over there, alright?" Emma said to her cat named, well.........Cat. Cat ran off in the opposite direction.  
  
"No! No, Cat, over there!" she cried, gaining herself stares. "Oh, no!"  
  
She started to walk into the school sadly. She'd have to find her only friend later, after school. Oh, she hoped she'd find her!  
  
"Hello." Came a voice beside her.  
  
"Hello, Monsieur." Emma answered. The boy was about her age, maybe older, with nice blonde hair and brown eyes.  
  
"My name is Charles."  
  
"My names Emma."  
  
"I'll help you find your cat after school. If that's alright?"  
  
"Yes, thank you!" said Emma. Wait. Was she smiling?  
  
"Don't worry about it. We'll find her. What's her name?"  
  
"Cat."  
  
Charles smiled and started laughing. Emma put her hands on her hips.  
  
"What's so funny?" she demanded.  
  
"Nothing, sorry." Charles said, choking back his laughter.  
  
"Well." Said Emma. "I'm going in now, okay?"  
  
"Alright." Said Charles, and he watched the girl with midnight black hair and ocean blue eyes skip into the school.  
  
**  
  
An hour after school, Emma, Charles and his Mother were looking for Cat.  
  
"Is that her?" Charles mother, Christine, asked.  
  
"Ummm. No. That's a shadow." Answered Emma.  
  
"Meow." Said a voice behind them.  
  
"Cat!" Emma exclaimed. Cat ran up, but stopped at Charles. She tapped his leg with her paw and mewed. Charles reached down and scratched Cat's ears. Cat looked at Emma.  
  
"MeOW!" Now, if that human didn't understand what 'Now' meant, Cat would have to give up on her altogether. But Emma understood. She went over and knelt down and began petting Cat as well. Christine smiled at the scene. Charles had no friends his own age, no friends period. It would be good for him to have a friend.  
  
Emma picked Cat up.  
  
"I've got to go home."  
  
"Where do you live? We'll take you home."  
  
"No! That's okay."  
  
"No, we really should-"  
  
But six-year-old Emma had taken off running.  
  
**  
  
"Hello, Emma!" Charles said the next day.  
  
"Hello, Charles." Emma greeted him with a smile. They were both sitting on the floor, waiting for school to begin, since chairs were all taken.  
  
"Did you get home alright?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
)) She walks to school with the lunch she packed  
  
Nobody knows what she's holdin' back  
  
Wearin' the same dress she wore yesterday  
  
She hides the bruises with linen and lace. ((  
  
"Alright, settle down, we're starting." Said the teacher. He glanced across the room. There was Charles de Changy, a temporary student, here just until he got accepted to another school. And next to him was Emma Bellamy. She was a cute and bright little girl. She had a strong spirit, too. But wasn't that the same dress she had worn yesterday?  
  
She also had seemed very sad and looked like she expected everyone to hurt her. Why was that? He wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't so perceptive, she kept it hidden so well. But what was she hiding? It didn't concern him; it wasn't any of his business.  
  
)) The teacher wonders but she doesn't ask  
  
It's hard to see the pain behind the mask  
  
Bearing the burden of a secret storm  
  
Sometimes she wishes she was never born. ((  
  
**  
  
A WEEK LATER  
  
Christine listened to her seven-year-old son playing notes on the piano. She smiled. Seven and he was already played Mozart and Bach and Beethoven. If she had had any doubt before, there was none now. There was no way he could be Raoul's son.  
  
~ "Erik?"  
  
"Yes, Christine?"  
  
"Will you play for me?"  
  
"Of course. What do you wish to hear?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
She watched as Erik gracefully stood from his seat by the fire, and sat in front of the piano. Christine followed, and stood beside him, watching his hands rest on the black-and-white keys. Erik never needed music. All he would do was close his eyes (or so Christine imagined) and let the music flow through his fingertips. She could watch him play all day. She watched his fingers glide over the keys, as easily as a calm river flowed along its way. There was something magic about him. She admired him, not that she could ever admit it to him, or to herself for that matter. It was always as if he and music were one. ~  
  
Daddy played piano  
  
Played it very well  
  
Music from those hands could  
  
Catch you like a spell  
  
He could make you love him  
  
'fore the tune was done  
  
You have your Daddy's Hands  
  
You are your Daddy's Son  
  
Christine smiled at the memory. She stood and walked onto the balcony, still listening to Charles. She looked across the garden, thinking.  
  
Although she had read every page of the newspaper every day for eight years, there still had been nothing of Erik's death. Perhaps he was still alive? And perhaps she might be able to see him again.........  
  
**  
  
Emma shut the door quietly behind her. She had to remember where she lived better! If Cat kept running away.........  
  
"EMMA LOUISE!" came her Daddy's voice.  
  
"Daddy!"  
  
"You're late!" he bellowed.  
  
"I got lost!"  
  
Cat ran off to a corner, but Emma stood her ground. She whispered to Cat,  
  
"Don't worry, Cat, I'll protect you."  
  
"You stupid brat!" and he began saying things no girl of her age should have to hear.  
  
/Please keep yelling, Daddy. I may hate it, but as long as........./  
  
She had to be strong. She had to be strong. She had to be strong. She had to be........  
  
WHACK!  
  
She flew and hit the wall seven feet from her. She gave a loud cry. Would someone help her this time? Would anyone?  
  
WHACK!  
  
She had to be strong.  
  
)) Through the wind and the rain  
  
She stands hard as a stone  
  
In a world that she can't rise above  
  
But her dreams give her wings  
  
And she flies to a place where she's loved  
  
Concrete angel ((  
  
**  
  
"Hello, Emma." Charles said the next day.  
  
"Hello, Charles. How are you?"  
  
"I'm okay. Papa is leaving for England today."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"How are you?"  
  
"I'm okay."  
  
"How's Cat?"  
  
"She's off somewhere. I think she has a friend."  
  
"That's nice."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Emma?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
But class began before he could ask his question.  
  
**  
  
"Oh, Cat, please stop running away!" said Emma, chasing her cat. Darkness had already fallen. Her Daddy was /not/ going to be happy!  
  
"Look what we've found here, fellas!" came an ugly, low voice.  
  
Emma turned and saw a big, ugly man with brown hair at the edges and on his face. Three men that looked very similar walked up behind him.  
  
"Who are you?" Emma asked, confused.  
  
"That doesn't matter, little girl."  
  
"Do you know where Cat is?"  
  
"You won't be caring where your cat is for long." The man said, smiling. Emma didn't like his smile. It was worse than her Daddy's. It was somehow.........  
  
"Your smiles is all greasy."  
  
The man laughed, and she liked his laugh about as much as she liked his smile. He pulled something shiny and sharp out.  
  
"Is that a knife?" Emma asked.  
  
"How observant of you."  
  
"What is it for?"  
  
"The better to hold you with, my dear."  
  
But Emma didn't hear. She was distracted by something behind the men.  
  
"Hey, look!" she said, pointing to an area behind and higher then them, "There's two golden glowing stars behind you!"  
  
One of the men turned.  
  
"What the he-" but a white hand had reached out and began to choke him. Emma turned and ran, crying, terrified.  
  
"Cat! Cat, where are you? We have to go! Cat!"  
  
She tripped.  
  
"Ow!" she slowly stood up, knees aching. But then something grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth.  
  
"Not a word, you hear, girl?" came the mans sharp voice, "Not a word!"  
  
But suddenly he was pulled away. Emma crawled over to a corner and pulled her knees under her chin, but instead of resting her chin on her knees, she rested her forehead and wrapped her arms around herself.  
  
"Cat!" she cried. She felt something furry move around her legs. She grabbed Cat and pulled her into a hug. Normally Cat would not have liked this, but her girl needed a hug than, so she lowered herself from her noble position to give her human a hug.  
  
"Mademoiselle?"  
  
She looked up. Now the two stars were not only two stars, but two white hands and a white mask.  
  
"Monsieur?" she asked.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"I think so. Who are you?"  
  
"My.........my name is Erik. What is yours?"  
  
"Emma." She held Cat up. "This is Cat."  
  
Cat escaped Emma's arms and went over to Erik.  
  
"Oh, so /that/ is your name?" he began to stroke Cat.  
  
"What do you mean, Monsieur Erik?"  
  
"She's visited me often lately."  
  
"Oh! So that's where you go, Cat!" Emma said.  
  
"Where do you live, Mademoiselle?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm lost."  
  
"Do you know the name of the street?"  
  
"No, I can't read."  
  
/This causes a problem........./ Erik thought.  
  
Then again, it caused a problem easily solved, if one was willing to risk the chances.  
  
"Well, then, Mademoiselle Emma, I suppose you shall have to stay with me for tonight, and I shall take you home tomorrow. If that is alright?"  
  
"It's alright." Emma answered.  
  
So Erik picked Cat up into his arms and stood. Emma stood as well.  
  
"Follow me, then." Erik said and reminded himself to walk slowly.  
  
**  
  
"Where are we?"  
  
"At my home." Erik answered. Removing his cloak.  
  
"What was that big building we went into?"  
  
"The Opera House."  
  
"The Opera House?" Emma echoed. It was familiar......... "You mean that big music place?"  
  
Erik laughed.  
  
"Yes, the 'big music place.'"  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Wait here."  
  
"Um.........okay."  
  
Erik left through one of the doors. Meanwhile, Cat jumped onto the piano bench, and Emma looked around. There was a piano /and/ an organ, a burgendy- coloured couch and two chairs beside a stone fireplace, shelves upon shelves of books, beautifully designed Persian carpets. Emma never, ever wanted to leave. It felt safe and welcoming here.  
  
"Here." Erik said, walking back into the room, holding a heavy faux mink blanket (of which Emma was glad, it was so very cold!) and soft feather pillow. He placed them onto the couch. Emma walked over and crawled under the blanket. She managed to mumble 'Goodnight' before falling fast asleep.  
  
**  
  
"Mommy!" Charles yelled when he walked into his house.  
  
"What is it, Charles?"  
  
"Emma wasn't at school today."  
  
"Maybe she's sick."  
  
"Mmmm. Can we go visit her?"  
  
"We don't know where she lives, Charles."  
  
"Can we find out?"  
  
"I don't think so, Charles."  
  
"Please?"  
  
Christine sighed.  
  
"Do you know her last name, Charles?"  
  
"Um.........um......... Charles tried to remember. What had the teacher called her? Oh!  
  
"Bellamy."  
  
"I'll see what I can do." Christine sighed.  
  
**  
  
Erik sighed, and tossed the book aside. How could he get so attached to the girl so quickly? He smiled for some unknown reason. He picked the book up again. He put it down again. Why was he suddenly so restless?  
  
Could it have been that nagging feeling he'd had for the past eight years, telling him just simply /look/ at her? That perhaps, perhaps.........  
  
/Perhaps what?/ Erik asked bitterly, and he could not find an answer.  
  
He stepped out of his room and walked carefully across his sitting room, put on his hat and cloak, and quietly walked through the door. He walked a ways, then through the black gate. He walked to the edge of the lake, and stood there with only his thoughts for hours.  
  
**  
  
Seven hours exactly after she had fallen asleep, Emma woke up. She yawned and opened her eyes. Wait. Where was she?  
  
Oh, yes, now she remembered.  
  
She smiled and looked around. Where was he? She reluctantly crawled out of the warm blanket and shivered. It was so cold!  
  
"Cat?" Emma asked. "Cat, where are you?"  
  
"Meow." Cat answered from on top of the piano. She jumped down onto the keys, creating a horrible sound.  
  
"Ow! Cat, don't do that!" Emma told Cat.  
  
"Meow."  
  
A few moments later the front door opened, and Erik walked in. He removed his hat and cloak, and then turned to face Emma.  
  
"Good morning." He greeted.  
  
"Good morning!" Emma said, smiling.  
  
"How did you sleep?"  
  
"Very well, thank you."  
  
"Good." Erik said.  
  
Was he actually smiling?  
  
It finally occurred to him. She'd have to eat, wouldn't she?  
  
"Wait here, I'll get you some breakfast." He said.  
  
"Alright. Thank you."  
  
Erik left for the kitchen.  
  
As he cooked, his thoughts led back to something else then his guest.  
  
/She is supposed to come back, if she finds out I'm dead. What if I published the announcement and simply waited for her to return?/ No, he decided. She'd be terribly angry at him, and, besides, she already had a life. She had a life with Raoul.  
  
As much as he tried to become angry at Raoul for taking the woman he loved, he couldn't anymore. Raoul had made the simple mistake of loving the same women he did. And he could never hate anyone who loved Christine. And besides, he himself had let Christine go with Raoul. It haden't been Raoul's fault.  
  
Erik sighed. He'd have to get his mind off Christine. Eight years, and he still loved her with all his heart.........  
  
**  
  
"Done, thank you!" Emma shouted after finishing.  
  
"You're welcome." Erik said, smiling at her as he picked up her dishes. He took them into the kitchen and placed them into the sink, and walked back.  
  
As he stepped back into the room, he saw Emma pressing keys on the piano. He smiled slightly and walked up to her. Emma turned and smiled brightly at him.  
  
"Do you play?" she asked. Erik nodded. "Will you play for me?" she asked. Erik paused and glanced at the piano for a moment, then sat down on the bench.  
  
"Yay!" Emma said. Erik flipped through and found a bell-like lullaby to play.  
  
As he began, Emma sat next to him and watched his hands. She wished she knew how to play! She closed her eyes to better hear the music.  
  
**  
  
Erik finished playing the song. Emma clapped, and Erik smiled. Cat seemed to have liked it as well, for she jumped into his lap and began purring. Emma laughed, and Erik chuckled.  
  
"Well, I think it's time we returned you home."  
  
"Oh! Oh, yes! Right. Come on, Cat!" Emma said, grabbing Cat, and running to wait by the door for Erik.  
  
/She's so eager to leave........./ Erik thought a little sadly.  
  
**  
  
"Oh, yes, Emma Bellamy?" the teacher asked Christine de Changy.  
  
"Yes." Christine answered.  
  
"She lives on Rue Royal. Number 447."  
  
"Thank you, Monsieur."  
  
"Of course."  
  
Christine left the house.  
  
"Mother! Mother, did he know?" Charles asked eagerly.  
  
"Yes, he did."  
  
"Let's go, then."  
  
**  
  
"This is it! This is my street." Emma said. Cat struggled out of her arms, and took off for the house.  
  
"Then I assume you can make it from here?" Erik said, uncomfortable with walking around in the daylight. But it wasn't so bad with a little girl clinging to his hand.........  
  
"Yes! Thank you!" Emma said, smiling. When she let go of his hand, Erik almost reached out for it again. Emma frowned for a moment.  
  
"What is wrong, Mademoiselle?"  
  
"Emma."  
  
Erik was confused for a moment. "Ah. Alright, then. What is wrong, Emma?"  
  
"Can you........." she hesitated, and Erik thought he saw a flash of fear in her eyes. "Can you visit me, sometime? Please?"  
  
Erik paused, and then smiled. Yes, he liked this girl.  
  
"Alright."  
  
"Yay! Oh, bye!" Emma said, and ran off.  
  
**  
  
There was a knock on the door. Emma had only been home a few minutes. Who could it be? Daddy wouldn't knock.  
  
Emma ran to the door and opened it wide.  
  
"Charles!"  
  
"Hello, Emma. Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine, but-"the smiled faded from her face. "How did you know where I lived?"  
  
"We asked your teacher." Christine said, smiling.  
  
"Oh. Well, you better go, Daddy'll be back soon and he doesn't like it when people are over that he don't know."  
  
"Oh." Christine said. "Well, then, we'd better go. Come on, Charles."  
  
"Alright, Mother. Goodbye, Emma. I'll see you at school."  
  
"MmmHmm!"  
  
"Alright. Bye."  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
Emma closed the door. She sighed. After a few moments, she went and found her red string, and played with Cat. It was a bit low for Cat, but Cat decided her human needed something to take her mind off when the man that made a lot of noise came back.  
  
And he did come back, four hours after sunset, drunk.  
  
"EMMA!"  
  
"Eep!" Emma ran to hide in her area beside the stairs and the wall. Her Daddy couldn't reach her there easily, unless he managed to pull her out.  
  
"WHERE WERE YOU!?"  
  
"I got lost, and-and, then someone attacked me, Daddy! But this nice man saved me, and he-"  
  
"He shouldn't have bothered, you're not worth saving!" Once again Emma kept hoping he'd just keep yelling, but once again he didn't. He hit her. Cat ran up and scratched his hand. Emma's Daddy picked Cat up and threw her against the far wall. Cat fell from where she hit the wall.  
  
"CAT!" Emma screamed, crying. She managed to get past her Daddy, and then ran over to Cat.  
  
"Cat! Oh, Cat, no! CAT!" She sobbed. Cat wasn't waking up! "Cat, wake up, you need to........." Emma's head hit the nearby wall with great force as her Fathers foot reached her face. Emma screamed in pain. There was blood in her hair, now, and one of her teeth had been knocked out. Emma managed to crawl up the stairs while her Daddy left the room to get something. She crawled to the hallway, but her Daddy caught up with her, holding a hammer.  
  
"Daddy, no!" Emma screamed, but her Daddy brought the hammer down onto her hand. Emma screamed as she felt a rush of pain and bones snapping. Emma bit her Daddy's ankle as hard as she could, then crawled into her room and closed the door, and locked it, then crawled underneath the window. She sobbed. It hurt so bad! Her hand.........and her head. She couldn't see very well, there were black and red spots blocking her vision.  
  
/I don't wanna die, I don't wanna die, don't make me die, please!/ Emma thought as she cried.  
  
The people next door heard Emma crying, and the banging, but this happened almost every night. They had never interfered before, they didn't plan on it.  
  
No, that was wrong. They /had/ asked Emma's father about it, but he had snapped at them. So they figured they may as well ignore it, there was nothing they could do, after all. And Emma had never asked for help, so it seemed everything was alright. Perhaps they were just building, and as for the crying- well, the girl's mother had abandoned her. That was reason to cry, after all.  
  
))Somebody cries in the middle of the night  
The neighbors hear, but they turn out the lights  
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate  
When morning comes it'll be too late  
  
Through the wind and the rain  
She stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings  
And she flies to a place where she's loved  
Concrete angel((  
  
**  
  
He didn't know why he was doing it. But something told him he had to go see Emma again. So he was walking down her street. He had made it halfway down the street when he remembered he did not remember which house was hers. He walked to the nearest house, and knocked on the door after lowering his hat over the mask.  
  
"Yeah?" asked a tired young man.  
  
"Pardon me for coming so late, but I was wondering if perhaps you knew where a young girl named Emma lived?"  
  
"Emma Bellamy? You passed her house, its right next to us."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
The man grunted in response as he closed the door. Erik turned and walked to the house to the left. He knocked on the door.  
  
No answer.  
  
He knocked again.  
  
No answer.  
  
He opened the door cautiously. He stepped inside. He saw Cat sleeping beside the wall opposite of him. He was going to smile, but......no, she wasn't sleeping......... Erik walked over to the cat, and a mere touch answered his question. She was as cold as ice and as hard as a rock. It appeared her ribs had been broken. His heart twisted in sadness. He had grown to love that cat. And poor Emma! She'd be heartbroken.  
  
What was that? There was a small tooth on the ground.........  
  
.........Emma.........  
  
He didn't bother being quiet.  
  
"EMMA!" He ran up the stairs as quickly as he could. On the floor next to the door was a hammer.  
  
.........a hammer with blood on it!  
  
Erik burst into the room and saw Emma on the floor, her hair soaked with blood and her hand broken. He ran up to her and checked her pulse.  
  
"No, no!" Erik shouted. He had been too late. Emma was dead.  
  
"Oh, Emma........." Erik began to cry. He should have known something was wrong by the way she asked him to visit sometime. He should have stopped this! But who would ever want to kill such a sweet little girl? And what of the cat?  
  
Erik searched around the house for some sort of idea. He had none. After moving Emma's body down stairs, he left the house and went next door again.  
  
"Yes? Oh, what do you need?" the man asked again.  
  
"I need you to contact the police." Erik said calmly, trying to keep his hat over the mask.  
  
"Why?" the man asked, awake now.  
  
"Emma Bellamy is dead."  
  
"What?"  
  
"I found her dead in her room."  
  
"Marc, what's wrong?" came a tired voice of a young lady behind him.  
  
"Oh, Aimee, Emma is dead."  
  
"Dead? How?"  
  
"She had a terrible injury on her head. Now, do you have any idea who may have done this?" Erik asked.  
  
Aimee bit her lip.  
  
"Well, we had been hearing noises and crying, but we never thought-" she began to cry, so Erik turned to Marc.  
  
"Her father, Monsieur. He never seemed a good type. Now I understand why his wife left him, though why she never took the child........." he left it off.  
  
"Yes. Well, contact the police immediately." Erik said, and turned to leave. He heard the door shut behind him.  
  
/Her FATHER?/ Erik thought angrily. Whoever he was, this man had better watch his steps from now on!  
  
Erik walked home slowly and sadly. He had loved the child, somehow. He didn't know how, he had only known her for a few hours. But her smiles could have melted even his own heart. There was something about her that drew everyone to her.  
  
Erik now regretted sending out the advertisement of his death. He'd have to deal with seeing Christine again as well, and she would be angry.........  
  
**  
  
"Charles? I'm going to go to the Opera, alright? I want you to be a good boy and obey everything Marie tells you, alright?"  
  
"Alright, Mama."  
  
Christine needed to see Erik again, and now, while Raoul was gone, was her only chance. She had to let Erik know of his son.  
  
On the way out she paused to glance at the paper. She flipped through, and while doing so sat at the table. She set her purse aside. No, no, no.........  
  
/NO!/ Christine thought.  
  
'Erik is dead.'  
  
/Erik is dead, Erik is dead, Erik is dead, Erik is dead........./ she must have read it a thousand times.  
  
Erik is dead.........  
  
Charles began playing the piano in the other room. But Christine was beginning to not hear it. She was going into shock.  
  
She had loved him! She had loved him far more then Raoul! She knew that now, but it was too late, too late.........  
  
/Erik is dead........./  
  
Daddy never knew that you were on your way  
He had other ladies and other tunes to play  
When he up and left me, I just up and run.........  
Only thing in my head:  
You are your Daddy's Son  
  
Yes, the music now was beginning to fade. It was drifting away.........as was her sanity.........  
  
She began to cry. She began to cry as hard as she could, but there was no comfort, none.........no comfort in tears.  
  
Soon she couldn't move, she couldn't think.........darkness was closing in on her, and she welcomed it.........  
  
**  
  
Four days later Erik dropped the paper. He sat down as quickly as he could, on the floor. He took in several breaths.  
  
Christine had been taken to England to stand trial for murder. For murdering her own son.........  
  
They had listed the birth date of the boy, and Erik counted back. No, the child was not Raoul's. It was his.  
  
My Goodness! Would tragedy follow him everywhere? No! It was his fault, all his fault! Christine had lost her mind after reading of his death in the papers, and then.........and then.........  
  
Erik couldn't breathe. He wanted to die! He wanted to die! No! No! No.........  
  
Christine's mind had returned after killing Charles. She was pleading guilty. There was no possible way he would find out where she was being held, it was top secret. First the girl, then his son, now the woman he loved more then anything in the world. Why couldn't it be his turn?  
  
**  
  
Erik stood, weeks later, before two graves. It was night, and it started to rain.  
  
/How fitting........./ Erik thought. Christine's body would be brought to Paris to be buried within a few days. But first Erik stood before those two graves.  
  
On the left, the grave of his son. On the right, the grave of the girl he wished was his daughter. Emma had smiled so many times; he never could have seen that she may be in trouble. She must have been so strong.  
  
))A statue stands in a shaded place  
An angel girl with an upturned face  
A name is written on a polished rock  
A broken heart that the world forgot  
  
Through the wind and the rain  
She stands hard as a stone  
In a world that she can't rise above  
But her dreams give her wings  
And she flies to a place where she's loved  
Concrete angel((  
  
Her father had not been found yet. The police were searching the city over for him, but it was likely they would never find him.  
  
Erik looked at the grave of his son. He never had the chance to see him, never. The only thing he had seen of him had been his picture in the paper.  
  
It was his fault his own son was dead. His fault Christine had lost her mind and killed him. His fault Christine was dead.  
  
Couldn't hear no music.  
Couldn't see no light.  
Mama, she was frightened, crazy from the fright.  
Tears offered no comfort, screams offered no sound.  
Only darkness and pain,  
the anger and pain,  
the blood and the pain  
I buried my heart in the ground!  
In the ground!  
When I buried you in the ground.  
  
The rain was pouring around him. There was mud everywhere. The rain was splashing it onto his trousers, but he didn't care at all. He didn't care about anyone or anything anymore.  
  
Splash, squish. Splash, squish. Click.  
  
Erik turned to use the barrel of a gun pointed at his head. The gun wavered as the man holding it saw Erik's bare face, and his mournful eyes.  
  
"Monsieur de Changy." Erik greeted, utter despair and self-loathing in his voice.  
  
"This........" Erik heard anger and woe in the voice of the man who Erik had- before that moment-still thought of as a boy. "This is all /your/ fault! If it haden't been for you, Charles and Christine would not have died!" Raoul's eyes were contorted with pain.  
  
"I know." Erik said sadly.  
  
"And now here you are, alive! Why? Christine went insane because she thought you had died! Why was that published if you were not dead?!"  
  
"I just........." Erik paused as he felt tears at the back of his eyes. He was numb now. "I only wanted to see her again." Erik whispered.  
  
"Your selfish wish cost her her life! As well as the life of your son!"  
  
Erik was not as numb suddenly.  
  
"You knew?"  
  
"Of course I knew." Raoul said.  
  
"Oh." Was all Erik could say.  
  
Moments went by, and Erik waited patiently for Raoul to pull the trigger. But he didn't. Instead, Raoul lowered his gun and choked back a sob.  
  
"What are you doing?" Erik asked impatiently.  
  
"I can't kill you."  
  
"Why on earth not?" Erik demanded.  
  
"Because you loved her as much.........more then I did. And it /was/ your son that died. I put myself in your position. You are suffering enough. More then enough."  
  
"/That's/ why you can't kill me?" Erik demanded.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That is ridiculous."  
  
"You almost sound as if you want me to kill you."  
  
"I do!" Erik yelled, angry.  
  
"What?" Raoul asked, shocked.  
  
"I can't live with this! I cannot live with the thought that I may as well have killed my own son as well as his mother! And this grave here," he motioned to Emma's grave. "I could have saved this girl. I did not. I can't live with it! Kill me!"  
  
"I.........I can't."  
  
"You must." Erik said, glaring at him.  
  
"I can't kill you." Raoul said, his voice soft and wavering.  
  
"You have to, Raoul!"  
  
Raoul blinked. He was more then a little taken back that Erik had used his given name.  
  
Over the times Raoul had found he could not hate Erik anymore, and had begun to pity him. He even at times almost wished Christine had remained with Erik-Raoul had known Christine loved him, and he also knew how much Erik loved and needed her. And now he felt a strange companionship with Erik. They both had lost loved ones. And Erik alone knew how Raoul felt by losing Christine, as well as shared his love for her.  
  
He couldn't shoot Erik.  
  
"I cannot, Erik. I can't." Raoul's voice cracked.  
  
"Please." Erik begged softly. "Have mercy, please. I will be living in hell for as long as I live, dying and rotting away slowly if you do not do this. Please, Raoul. Shoot me. Show me mercy. Don't make me go through that. Not again.........I barely survived the last. Now that she is gone forever.........and now that I have found I have a son only to find I have lost him without even looking upon his face.........and losing that little girl of whom I cared for, when I might have saved her.........Raoul. You must kill me. Please."  
  
Raoul felt tears spill over his face. The poor man.........he lifted the gun again and gulped. But no, he was too weak. He'd never killed a man before, he couldn't do it now. He lowered the gun again.  
  
"I can't. I am sorry, but I can't."  
  
Erik looked at Raoul for a few moments, and then spoke in a whisper that could hardly be heard over the rain and the wind.  
  
"And I am sorry as well, Raoul. So sorry.........and also for what I am going to do now." Erik said. Raoul had only a moment to be confused, when Erik jumped at him and wrapped his death-like hands around his neck and began choking him.  
  
/What?/ Raoul wondered. He tried to push Erik off, but he couldn't, Erik was just too strong. Erik closed his hands around Raoul's neck tighter, tighter. Raoul was beginning to see darkness around the edges of his vision. He had to do something.........something or Erik would kill him!  
  
Raoul raised the gun and shot Erik. Erik fell to the ground, eyes closed, with a sickening 'squish' of the mud.  
  
"Thank you." Erik whispered, and only then did Raoul realize that Erik had attacked him only so that he would shoot him.  
  
"I'm sorry." Raoul said. It had been the last thing the infamous Phantom of the Opera ever heard.  
  
Raoul stood there, looking at this man who had been so strong, who had been broken to the point that he could no longer live with his grief. He had died smiling.  
  
Raoul sighed, and left the gun in Erik's hand. The rain would wash away any fingerprints the police may find. He found the mask atop Charles grave. He put the mask back on Erik's face. He would have taken Erik somewhere so that they could not find him, but he knew he could not carry him. So he left. He left to be utterly alone in his sorrow. He, too, longed for the day he would die and rejoin Christine, but he knew Christine was no longer his. Christine would be with the person she had loved most all along. The person who deserved her more then anyone on earth.  
  
Raoul left the graveyard, and went home. There would be a time to heal, but it was not today. Today was a day to grieve for Christine, Charles, and a man of whom Raoul would never forget.  
  
Daddy played piano,  
Bet he's playing still.  
Mama can't forget him,  
Don't suppose I will.  
God wants no excuses,  
I have only one:  
You had your Daddy's hands,  
  
Forgive me!  
You were your Daddy's Son.  
  
~~~~  
  
It was no where near as good as I had planned it out to be. Very sorry! I've reread this sixteen times and the only way I can think of to fix it is to rewrite it all. It's really bad, isn't it? Oh, well. When I get to Kansas I'll start a rewrite. In the meanwhile, tell me what you think of the idea and so forth. Any suggestions will help a lot. Suggestions are more then welcome.  
  
Thank you for reading this, even if it's kind of.........erm.........bad.  
  
Roses,  
  
PhantomessAbigail 


End file.
